


Context

by Rubidium118



Series: Subtext [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Ciel is still a little shit, M/M, moved from fanfiction as well, this is disregarding much of what is going on in the manga at the moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubidium118/pseuds/Rubidium118
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the highest test to his endurance and courage and he knew he was going to run for the hills sooner or later.</p><p>Ciel knew it too, standing still to allow Arthur to look at him, smiling proudly and smugly, knowing he had won before even stepping into Arthur’s sight and Arthur did not even try to stop studying him, noticing how age had made him bloom and stand out on all the brightness Ciel Phantomhive could ever achieve and was surely to keep until his death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Context

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote this, two and a half years ago, I made the mistake of not confirming the age of consent and the majority of age (not that it matters much anyway, since homosexuality was heavily criminalized in England back then) existent in Ciel Phantomhive's time period, and as such, I made his eighteen years very relevant regarding the 'morality' of him being involved with an older man. 
> 
> I, of course, knew the situation with homosexuality when I wrote this, but I somehow believe Arthur would have been feeling more guilty and scandalized because of his age rather than his gender (not that the gender thing means nothing to him, actually that's half the reason he is so nervous around Ciel); I am also not exactly sure what entailed giving consent in that time, I know it was at sixteen but regardless of what the law said about younger men involving themselves with older ... people, Arthur still didn't feel right at feeling the way he did about someone so obviously young. 
> 
> With that being said, I will take the liberty of pretending being eighteen is when boys were recognized as adults in said time period mostly because I could not find an exact answer to my question, and for the sake of not having to edit some part of this work and the pacing with the previous one.
> 
> I should look more into this, but for now I will share this as it is. 
> 
> (I don't know if I made myself clear with Arthur's beliefs, but what I tried to say is that Arthur didn't feel alright with involving himself with a not-adult regardless. Sorry I have a bit of a big migraine right now.)

It was not until three years had passed before Arthur, wordsmith and renowned author, received a written reminder of Earl Ciel Phantomhive’s existence yet again.

 

This time was worse than the other two occasions on which he had found himself reading the cursive and perfect handwriting of the one he now knew more about than what he would have preferred, and he had studied so often the elegant movements on his memories that now he could envision those white gloved hands inking the expensive paper with a clarity so startling Arthur grimaced.

 

He now regretted with passion having created a character so alike Sebastian Michaelis, the creature he should have forgotten about the exact moment he stepped away from the Phantomhive State; but Arthur did not think things through before acting, and now he and every little quirk of this unnerving personage were tangled in the intimate and unexplainable relationship between author and creation.

 

Arthur wished all the occurrences of five years ago had been nothing but a shadow of delirious imagination from a repressed creative mind and not the reality that hit him in the face every time he looked at his surroundings and found them changed, because now every little thing, even the clothes he wore and the food he swallowed, were direct results of the existence and knowledge of those two dreadful creations of what must not have been God.

 

Then Arthur remembered the child’s face, his smile, his smooth and flawless skin, and he wondered, he doubted and thought that maybe Ciel Phantomhive was an angelic being after all; then the hidden eyes of his mind would be swarmed with his enchanting grace and he would yet again agree that Ciel was positively demonic.

 

Or at the very least he was when he met him and surely had fallen even lower on the abyss on these three years of disconnection.

 

This time was by far the worse because this time was October the fourteenth and in two exact months Earl Ciel Phantomhive was coming of age.

 

Arthur did not fear for his life, he did not even have to mentally review his works to know he had not upset either of them, and he also knew he kept writing Watson and Holmes the same way as before.

 

He also remembered the last important answer he gave to the Earl and he swallowed hard, painfully dry.

 

He was invited to the second party the evasive and private Earl had ever hosted, yet again being among the revered and envied selected group of people allowed into his State and his lush, and every known person from the socialite was aware of this without doubting in the least the reasons the Earl must held to decide such a thing since, after all, Arthur Wordsmith was talented, was bright, he was a genius and Ciel Phantomhive was the first relevant person who had ever acknowledged it.

 

Now the fuss and the hysterics were on discovering who else was part of this elite group, of surely the best of the best.

 

Arthur held the invitation for at least an hour before he dared to close his eyes, sigh and accept he had made the decision of attending the exact moment he had processed what this was about, not mattering to him at all the presence of unwelcome others, a small group of people who would easily be able to chase him with their eyes and their senseless talk, because this all meant he was going to see him again.

 

He was curious and scared, more terrified than ever before, his heart beating madly and warningly, but Arthur was a writer.

 

He lived for passion, eccentricity and fascination, and most importantly of all, for feeding his curiosity.

 

 

* * *

 

Arthur knew he was about to get himself in trouble the exact same moment he entered the Phantomhive State’ Hall and noticed no one else but the butler, yet again at his back closing the door silently, and him were in the room.

 

He would have asked where the others were and where the Earl was, but he felt those mocking eyes on the back of his head and Arthur, being older and having had a considerable amount of time to analyze things better, knew it was wiser to at least try and keep his composure.

 

“The Young Master will be meeting with you shortly, Mister Wordsmith, please allow me to seat you at the dinner table while he descends.”

 

Arthur nodded and he was sure that even though he kept his face relaxed and his stance secure while being lead to the dinner table, shorter than the one he had been seated at the first time he was invited, set for only two, candlelit and lovely, that the butler could smell his fear.

 

He heard the Earl’s footsteps before he saw him enter the room with a confident stride, clacking his boot’s heels on the floor, still dressed on that unlikely fashion that fascinated Arthur even though he was now officially a gentleman and Arthur knew, watching the wine red suit, velvety and tight, the shorts and the knee high boots, the flowery hat and the black gloves, that the Earl was teasing him, for he suspected he would never allow himself to be seen dressed as such at his age, and that the night would turn out to be all the more troublesome.

 

This was the highest test to his endurance and his courage and he knew he was going to run for the hills sooner or later.

 

Ciel knew it too, standing still to allow Arthur to look at him, smiling proudly and smugly, knowing he had won before even stepping into Arthur’s sight and Arthur did not even try to stop studying him, noticing how age had made him bloom and stand out on all the brightness Ciel Phantomhive could ever achieve and was surely to keep until his death.

 

“It is nice to see you again, Mister Wordsmith.” the Earl said while sitting down, the smiling butler drawing his chair in close, covering his lap with a finely embroidered napkin, pampering with minute movements of his hands.

 

Ciel Phantomhive’s voice was more dangerous than ever, deeper, smooth, still light with youth, sweeter.

 

“It is indeed, Earl, thank you for inviting me over.”

 

The Earl waved his hand dismissively in one of those gestures he was so not likely to make under anyone else’s eyes, one of those gestures that made Arthur want to hide in a church forever.

 

“Do not even mention it, Mister Wordsmith, it is always my pleasure to have you over. You enlighten and enrich my dull evenings with your presence and I am unable to remember why I waited so long before having the grace of your visits again.” he smiled.

 

Arthur wanted to curse under his breath, he was still a nervous wreck, older, more composed, but still needing to blink slowly and hide his face with the measured sipping of his water glass.

 

The three of them knew why he had chosen this particular date to invite him and not before or after.

 

Arthur was less naive than the last time he had been before this particular danger, and he had enough time to repeat all their conversations in his head on the three years of pause the Earl had granted him, and now could understand the general idea of what was happening around him.

 

He almost flinched when he found himself again demanding to his rationality why he was even there at this point where he knew better.

 

“Business and writing are different in everything but being very busy occupations” Arthur answered evenly.

 

The Earl laughed and Arthur took a deep breath through his nose because the sound was as terrifying as ever.

 

“You are right” the Earl peeped brightly on that childish facade he liked to put on in front of Arthur. Then his lids dropped. “You have changed quite a bit, Mister Wordsmith. I cannot say I do not miss the past you for you were endearing, but I am not displeased.”

 

Arthur bit harder than necessary on the softest meat he had eaten in his life, the food being heavenlier (ironically so) than ever in the household but tasting like ash on his panicked mouth.

 

“You have changed too, Earl, is a natural part of aging.”

 

“Do you find my changes displeasing?”

 

“Not in the slightest. They are normal for a boy.”

 

The Earl hummed in understanding, sipping his wine delicately and then smiling again.

 

“I am not fond of gossiping but our society moves like that, I am sure you are certain of this by now being you of such high standing nowadays, but I am afraid I heard about the shortcoming between you and your fiancé. We are friends and I cannot help but to be curious and concerned, it happened two months ago if I heard right?”

 

Arthur watched the butler refill his Master’s glass of wine, the red color amplified and outstanding on the lights of the candles and dancing on the red irises of the supernatural being as if screaming truths and teasing Arthur for his past stupidity.

 

The butler’s true nature was obvious if you cared to see it.

 

“I am afraid most couples undergo these sad and sudden endings on our modern society, Earl, is not that rare to find people finding out they disagree” Arthur lied.

 

The Earl nodded slowly, deliberately, the corner of his lips standing up in smugness, his eyes telling Arthur he knew what had happened and that he could see into his very soul to seek for answers.

 

Arthur had received the invitation and the exact next time he saw his fiancé he felt as if unable to look her in the eye without being drowned by guilt for mysterious reasons he could not yet grasp but apparently the Earl had.

 

Before he could talk again, though, Arthur barreled first.

 

“I am most impressed by the small party you are holding, Earl, you sent out invitations two months ago and that would lead anyone to believe you were planning a big celebration. What happened?”

 

The Earl’s eye sparkled and Arthur knew he had made a mistake.

 

“I am having a celebration big enough as it is, Mister Wordsmith, I assure you.” he sipped his wine again, watching Arthur closely. “But it could develop into something much better, do not you agree?” he closed his eye lazily. “When people know how to have fun they can have the greatest of times, especially with how little is standing between them.”

 

Arthur thought he heard the butler giggle by their side but he was terrified, transfixed, rooted to the every moment and second the Earl had shattered his mind.

 

He had to run now if he still wanted to escape unscathed.

 

“I am afraid I must depart.” he stuttered, standing so suddenly he almost turned over his wine and his napkin fell in a heap under the table.

 

“So soon?” the Earl sighed tiredly, bored, as if he had known (because he had, he absolutely had) this was going to happen in the next seconds.

 

Arthur nodded frantically, trying to step away from the table without getting tangled with the chair’s legs.

 

“Yes, and I must apologize, but I believed you were going to host more people and my leaving would have gone unnoticed.” he half lied, for he indeed had this escape on mind from before he arrived.

 

The Earl stood too when Arthur tried to stroll to the door without waiting for his answer, and he had this sudden idea that the Earl was going to stand by the door to prevent him from running.

 

“It is such a pity.” the Earl sighed dejectedly. “I put on so much effort for this night, Mister Wordmisth, I canceled all my boring meetings and obligations and I made sure to pick my attire with so much care.”

They looked at each other for terrifyingly still seconds.

 

“After I dressed up so nicely for you, you are in debt with me and must return soon. After all, this is my coming of age birthday and you have not even congratulated me.”

 

Arthur stared.

 

He was absolutely right and so he laughed nervously and breathless.

 

“Now that you mention it you are absolutely right, I apologize for my rudeness but you know I am easily distracted.”

 

“Yes, I know, you always look to the opposite direction I want you looking at.”

Arthur choked when the Earl was suddenly so close their noses almost touched.

 

The smirk was so close, the dangerous eyes so near, the snake fangs hidden under pretty lips and Arthur realized with panic and a harsh shift on reality and his life, his morals and his soul, with heart shattering clarity, that he was definitely into the trap now that the Earl was not a boy.

 

He gasped painfully.

 

The Earl’s eyes softened by only a fraction before going back to their cruel mocking.

 

“Keep your eyes focused. I will be waiting for your apology gift, Arthur.” he said in a whisper.

 

Arthur’s skin prickled and he violently shuddered at the feel of the other’s breath so intimately close to his skin. He felt the other’s nails digging into the fabric of his jacket when he leaned even closer and spoke in a low rumble that almost sent Arthur into a faint.

 

“You owe me.”


End file.
